A Collection of Last Thoughts
by MorbidMan
Summary: Several characters died in "28 Days Later". Each chapter of this story is about each one of those character's final thoughts.
1. Mark

Mark's Final Thoughts  
  
"Jim's gone," Selena stated nonchalantly. Selena and Mark had nearly been asleep when Jim had gotten up and gone upstairs; they were sleeping in a lowered room that had two steps leading up to the den of the house. "Think we should go after him?"  
  
Mark turned to face Selena, an attractive black woman who believed that surviving was "as good as it gets" according to what she had told him on several different occasions. She still had her eyes closed. "Sure."  
  
They both got up and started up the stairs quietly. Jim said something that sounded like "It's empty", but Mark couldn't be positive that's what he had said. They reached the top of the stairs and Selena turned to him.  
  
"Did you hear something?" she asked, suddenly fully awake and attentive.  
  
"Well I just heard Jim saying something if that's what you me--"  
  
"Quiet," Selena interrupted him quite rudely. She turned her head slightly to listen for something.  
  
Mark couldn't hear anything; but he could smell something. He could smell the rotting of Jim's parent's bodies upstairs. Jim had vowed to bury them in the backyard at dawn. Mark had agreed to help him while Selena objected to the idea of staying around to bury them.  
  
"We should get out of here as soon as possible," she had argued. "We should've never even gone on this useless trip. I'm sorry Jim, but we need to get back to the store. We need to leave at dawn to get there in time. It's the only safe place Jim."  
  
Jim had gotten kind of pissed at her over that quarrel. He hadn't won, but kudos to him for at least trying. They would leave at dawn.  
  
After that they had all laid down and tried to sleep for an hour or so before Jim had gone upstairs. All that time Mark had been replaying his family's death again and again in his mind. He was sure to have a nightmare for that, but after telling Jim about it he couldn't get it out of his head. Even standing there with the listening Selena at the top of the stairs he couldn't help but think of it.  
  
Selena turned to him shakily, her bottom lip quivering. "That's an Infected," she stated and that's when they heard the windows smashing in the kitchen where they assumed Jim had gone. "Let's go!"  
  
They charged quickly into the furnished kitchen with its refrigerator that had pictures of Jim and his family hung on it with "Mum's Favorite Recipes" on the top of it with other miscellaneous items.  
  
"FIGHT!" Mark shouted fiercely as he charged forth. "FIGHT!"  
  
He reached the scene first and saw Jim fighting under the two Infected that had broken in. One was a little overweight and the other was a skinny, young girl - the other's daughter in life most likely.  
  
Mark grabbed the girl and flung her over the kitchen table in the middle of the room and took out a hunting knife which he preceded to stab her with. "Selena!" Mark shouted out after noticing her absence.  
  
Selena then ran in quickly with her machete. She hadn't come in with Mark because she had needed to return to get her machete from their sleeping room. She flung it down into the back of the fat Infected that was still on top of Jim and blood sprayed out from the wound.  
  
Mark and Selena continued to hack away at their own Infected until they were dead… or would that be deader? Mark wasn't quite sure if they were zombies or not.  
  
"Were you bitten?" Selena asked as she pointed her bloody machete at Jim accusingly.  
  
Jim started rambling about how he knew who they were (Mr. Bridges and his daughter. They lived four doors down). Mark didn't listen to this and occupied himself with cleaning the Infected' s blood off of his arms with a rag that just so happened to be lying beside the sink on the counter.  
  
"Were you bitten?" Selena practically screamed, interrupting Jim in the process. Her voice was cold.  
  
Mark started wiping off his left arm and then spotted something that sent cold chills through his body and made him perspire. There was a gash on his left arm that was gushing blood and filling up with the Infected' s blood.  
  
(Oh no. Oh God no please no.)  
  
"Mark?"  
  
Mark looked up at the sound of Selena's voice. She was looking at him curiously, wondering if he was alright or not. Then she was wondering if he was infected or not.  
  
Mark glanced down at his cut then back at Selena. She knew he was. Just like he knew he was. "Wait," he said. It was the last thing he ever said.  
  
Selena descended upon him with her machete, hacking away at his left arm which he had thrown up to protect himself. He was barely aware that he was screaming; all that he was focusing on was the pain coursing through him.  
  
(NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!)  
  
Then he felt half of his left arm tumble away from the rest after Selena had hacked it off.  
  
(That's all she was doing! She didn't want to kill me! She just wanted to stop the infection at my arm and I'll still li--)  
  
He ceased to think as soon as the machete hit him once again right in the chest. There was a moment of searing pain and then he was dead. Selena slashed down at his dead body once and then pulled out her machete.  
  
!!!$%$%$%  
  
Jim watched as Selena killed Mark heartlessly. He had no idea what was going on.  
  
(What the hell are you doing Selena?)  
  
Then Mark's screaming stopped and Selena stood up after tearing her blade from Mark's chest. He couldn't see Mark because he was concealed behind the counter/table in the middle of the room. Selena looked over at him, sighed, looked down at Mark, then grabbed a roll of paper towels.  
  
She then threw the roll at Jim. Jim tried half-heartedly to catch it and failed, the roll fell to the floor. He looked up at Selena without picking it up. She commanded one thing of him.  
  
"Get that cleaned off."  
  
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()  
  
Hey, Morbidman here. I hope you liked this. Please review. This is based on one of my favorite scenes from the movie. It's a couple minutes before Jim and Selena meet up with Frank and Hannah and is after Mark explained to Jim about his family's death. I don't call the Infected zombies because they really weren't; zombies are dead and eat people while the Infected only had deteriorated minds and spit blood all over their opponents to infect them or just plain out killed them.  
  
Disclaimer: None of these characters or events is of my own conjuring other than Mark and Selena walking up and talking and the incident where they argued about burying his parents or not.  
  
" 'There is no infection; it's just people killing people.' He's insane!" - Farrell "28 Days Later" 


	2. Frank

Frank's Last Thoughts  
  
They had to be here. They said they would. They had promised they would. The recording had said the forty-second blockade. They were at the forty-second blockade and, guess what, NO SOLDIERS!  
  
Frank trudged through the blockade past the tanks and trucks and tents and all that other shit that suggested that someone should be there. If not soldiers like the recording promised, then a civilian or a foreigner or someone. Someone.  
  
Just south of Manchester at the forty-second blockade. They were there. But no soldiers were with them. Looks like Selena was right in suggesting that the soldiers were all dead. God, why had he been so stubborn about coming here? Why?  
  
It was all a huge injustice. The loss of his wife. The loss of civilization. The unseasonable drought. The Infected. Now this, their last hope of salvation completely demolished. The thread that had kept him going--kept them going actually--was gone.  
  
His last words were still ringing in his ears. "GO FUCKING WHERE?"  
  
That hadn't been right of him. He was sorry. He'd need to apologize for that later.  
  
Frank sat down on a block of cement and stared at the ground with his branch dangling between his fingers. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't. They had been waiting for so long for a chance to get out and find those soldiers that the recording had lied about. Then they had gone through so much shit to get to the blockade. And what was it all for? NOT A GODDAMN THING!  
  
Frank started breathing a little more deeply and began to get himself under control.  
  
Then a sound reached his ears that made him snap his head upwards.  
  
A crow was cawing. He could see it all black and cawing to the air. It was eating a dead body. Possibly a dead Infected. Not unlikely, the body might have come from the soldiers' last stand. That is, if the soldiers had had a last stand. Maybe the Infected had just come in and… killed them in their sleep.  
  
That concept had always bothered the hell out of Frank. Going to sleep was a problem for him, so he had become adapted to staying up all night sometimes. Especially now that he did have something to worry about that might sneak up on his helpless unconscious self and puke blood all over him, make him something he didn't want to be, make him an Infected. He was so tired now, though. His eyes were bloodshot and felt exceptionally dry.  
  
"Get out of it," he ordered the crow. It also bothered him to see a crow scavenging the remains of a human body like the human meant absolutely nothing. The equivalent of dirt. Even if the body was that of an Infected, the Infected had still been human once.  
  
The crow went on cawing, however, oblivious to his command. "Get out of it," he repeated a little more huskily, his anger showing in his voice. He walked over to a sheet metal gate below the crow and the body and kicked it. That was the biggest mistake he ever made in his entire life.  
  
The crow fluttered away from the body of the Infected in a hurry, startled by the loud bang. The body was disturbed as well, and a single, tiny drop of blood fell from its ravaged neck.  
  
There was a strange sensation as it splashed into his eye. He gasped as he blinked the red vision out of it and gazed at the ground. He knew as soon as it hit his eye that he was done, that he was Infected.  
  
He started rubbing frantically at his eye, trying to bring the blood back out, to take back his kick and the crow and everything. He worried if he'd ever see Hannah or Jim or Selena again before he was fully gone. He worried if he'd ever get to apologize for his outburst. He had seen demonstrations of the extraordinarily short time it took for a person to decompose to nothing and begin to kill others.  
  
He barely realized he had dropped his stick as he raised his other hand to his eye.  
  
This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. IT WASN'T FUCKING FAIR!  
  
"Dad, are you all right?" Hannah asked, and a chill went through Frank's body. He was about to leave her all alone. It wasn't fair. He looked at her, keeping the worry out of his right eye--the one that hadn't been dosed in death--because she didn't need to know just yet.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine, sweetheart," he replied and then started breathing a little rapidly. "Sorry I lost my temper."  
  
Hannah nodded and began to walk away, back to Jim and Selena.  
  
"Hannah," he called to her, feeling the infection spreading way, way too fast for comfort. She turned around and looked at him with her arms crossed around her chest. "I love you very much."  
  
Hannah smiled and chuckled a little bit, not noticing the seriousness in his voice. He was about to leave his daughter alone in this world. It wasn't fair. "What?" she asked as she began to walk forward.  
  
"Keep away from me," Frank ordered. Now worry was spreading over Hannah's face much like the infection spreading through Frank's body. His last swell moment with Hannah had come and gone, now was just the horror of his becoming Infected. "Stay where you are."  
  
Hannah kept coming though, her arms now uncrossed. Frank turned his head slightly away from her. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. IT WASN'T FAIR! THERE WERE NO SOLDIERS THERE! HE WAS ABOUT TO LEAVE HIS BITCH OF A DAUGHTER ALONE IN THE WORLD!  
  
He suddenly felt like killing everything. It was the infection. Hannah wasn't a bitch. He tried to calm himself down and failed miserably.  
  
"Dad?" Hannah was now close. Too close. Too fucking close.  
  
SHE WAS STILL DISOBEYING HIM!  
  
"Keep away from me!"  
  
"Dad?"  
  
"KEEP AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed and grabbed her, pushing her away.  
  
"DAD!"  
  
Then Hannah fell on her ass as Jim and Selena came rushing over to the sound of Frank screaming. He started repeating himself like a broken record as he turned around and started leaving them behind. Then he started twitching. Hannah was screaming again. He wanted to shut her up for good, but no. No. It wasn't fair it wasn't fair it wasn't fair IT WASN'T FAIR!  
  
"What's wrong?" Hannah exclaimed. "DAD!"  
  
He knew that Selena and Jim knew what Hannah was trying not to think about.  
  
"Jim!" he heard Selena shout. "Jim he's infected!"  
  
"No!" Hannah screamed. "No!"  
  
Then Selena started telling Jim to kill him. "Kill him!"  
  
Hannah was screaming protests that went unnoticed.  
  
This all wasn't fair. It was a huge injustice. Now Frank was so angry that everything seemed calm. Frank turned to Jim, gleeful that he was about to kill Jim. About to kill that little fuck.  
  
Jim was raising his bat to bash Frank's skull in. The camouflaged soldiers behind Frank got to killing him first. He didn't feel the bullets entering his body, but he knew what was happening. He was dying.  
  
Frank fell to the ground and died as the soldiers that he had been waiting for so long to meet finished him off.  
  
!!!$%$%$%  
  
"Stay away from him!" a soldier screamed as he closed in with his weapon raised. "Stay away from that body!"  
  
Jim took two steps away, not believing what he had just seen.  
  
The soldiers moved in quickly, making certain that Frank, loving father and husband was dead.  
  
In the background, being hugged by Selena, Hannah looked onward at her dead father. In a very small and childish voice she spoke.  
  
"Dad?"  
  
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()  
  
Hey, MorbidMan here. This is my first update. I had wanted to save this for one of the last ones, but I realized I should probably do all the deaths in order. Next comes one of the soldiers. I don't remember his name, but since I continuously pause and rewind the particular scene I'm writing about, I'll have his name learned for the next chapter. Thanks to my… two reviewers. I'm a little disappointed that I only got two reviews for my first chapter, but I hope more people will come and read this. See you all next chapter.  
  
"That's all folks!" - Porky the Pig "Looney Tunes" 


	3. Farrell

_**Farrell's Last Thoughts**_

So it had come to this. Traveling through the green woods, listening to the emptiness of it all, hands tied together, with a gun barrel pointed at his back. This was how a man who enlisted in the army, willing to put his life on the line for his country, was repaid.

Ever since day one no one had really liked him. They were more than happy that they had finally been given the orders to execute him. Mitchell, the mother-fucking asshole, was the one who was most willing to do away with Farrell. Jones was the unfortunate, dim, well-meaning guy teamed up with him. Mitchell was just an all around piece of shit who thought of women as nothing more than objects that spit out babies and sucked cock. Farrell liked Jones a hell of a lot more. Jones was kind, just stupid with a thick skull. Plus he was weak. Had Jones been stronger perhaps Mitchell would already be dead and the prisoners' hands untied. Unfortunately Jones was weak.

Farrell looked sideways at the skinny wreck named Jim trudging along beside him. Jim looked in real bad shape. Malnourishedweren't they all?and beaten up. Jim hadn't gone through the training Farrell had and it showed. Jim was weak, too. Farrell could smell the fear emanating off of him. It reminded him of how much like sheep humans really were.

The birds were singing in the trees the most lovely elegies imaginable. Farrell understood that these were the last songs he would hear in his life. No more Izzy Pop. No more KISS. No more Beatles. No more Elvis. No more A Fire Inside. A pit formed in his stomach, but he repressed any feelings of depression. Considering his whole life amounted to nothing at all, his death sure as hell wouldn't mean anything either. So why be scared of it? So why be sad about its coming?

Jim tripped and fell. Everyone stopped but Mitchell, who walked up to Jim's weak form and pointed his Claymore downwards. Mitchell put his foot down on Jim's bloody, grimy face and brought the barrel of his gun down closer.  
"Please," Jim pleaded. Farrell was disgusted at how pathetic it sounded. He wished that Jim understood that it was best to die silently with honor.

"Believe me," Mitchell began, malicious humor dancing in his eyes, "I'm not interested." He paused and tilted his head to the side. "You see, I'm gonna have the black one. And I'm gonna make her squeal."

"Mitchell!" Farrell barked. That last sentence had been far too much. Mitchell removed his foot from Jim's face and aimed his gun at Farrell. Farrell closed his eyes and turned his face away from the gun, fear flying through his system. His training was forgotten. His honor was forgotten. "I swear to God it's gonna end badly for you!" he managed.

"Move," Mitchell commanded of Jim, his interest in the situation gone. "Come on, move! Get up!" Jim began to struggle to his feet. "Get up you fucking cunt!" Mitchell shouted as he kicked Jim in the side, sending him down again. "Fucking move! Get up!" Jim scrambled to his feet and was walking again, his green shirt covered in dirt from where he had been laying down. He was walking backwards. "Move your fucking ass!" Jim turned around and kept walking. Jones and Mitchell were right behind them with their Claymores raised.

Soon they reached a clearing next to the perimeter wall. There was a mound of dead bodies next to the wall. Dead and rotting. Chopped apart by bullets. They were the bodies of the infected that had managed to sneak in. Most of them were from last night's attack. Last night had been a horrifying spectacle.

Last night had sealed the fate of Selena and Hannah to live out what remained of their lives as sex slaves to the remainder of the nation's army. Selena was strong, so Farrell didn't worry about her much. Hannah, however… Hannah was only a teenager. If Farrell could escape from Jones and Mitchell for just a second he could probably book it back to the mansion, but what then? Get mowed down by the others in the mansion?

There had to be some way to get help to Hannah. Some way. Perhaps if Jim could get away he could help her. It was worth a shot.

Jim and Farrell turned away from the pile of dead bodies and faced Jones and Mitchell. Jones looked utterly terrified and uncertain. Mitchell looked like a kid in a candy store.

"Come on, then, you fucking pansies," Farrell said, his voice set and determined now that he had a grip on himself, his training back in mind, "do me first." Then Mitchell did something that Farrell had been fearing. He put his blade on the tip of his gun. Jones saw this and began to shuffle about.

"Mitch, just use the gun," Jones ordered, pleaded.

"So you're gonna stick me, Mitchell, is that it?" Farrell said.

"Mitch, just shoot him!" Jones continued to plea.

"Why?" Mitchell replied in a playful manner meant to intimidate Farrell. It worked.

"Because it's fucking quicker!" Jones exclaimed.

"Is that how you're gonna let your sergeant go out, Jones?" Farrell inquired. He hoped to turn them on each other just long enough to let one of them escape. This was his last shot at accomplishing anything apart from death.

"I'll fucking shoot him, then!" Jones proclaimed, moving his gun to do so. He looked so innocent and naïve. His wide eyes didn't seem to have caught on yet that this was really going to happen. Mitchell was much more experienced and more of a psychopath. He was relishing the dread on Farrell's face.

"No you won't," Mitchell replied over his shoulder, walking closer to Farrell.

"You gonna let him stick me, are you?" Farrell continued. "Like a fucking dog!" Farrell spit all over Mitchell's face and Mitchell drew back a step. He had a hand on his face but made no move to wipe the saliva off. He dropped his hand and Farrell could sense the anger boiling inside of him.

"I'm gonna enjoy this," Mitchell declared with a smile. He took one step forward and then Farrell felt something go through him shortly followed by something else. It occurred to him distantly that he was being shot. Thank God for that. Thank God for that.

Farrell's body dropped to the ground, dead. He was now part of the pile of the dead.

* * *

Mitchell looked over at Jones, even more rage boiling through his body. Jones had almost shot him! Mitchell ran up to Jones and knocked him to the ground.

"You stupid cunt!" Mitchell screamed and put his gun in Jones's panicking face. "What are you doing? Oh, you wanna shoot me, do ya? You wanna fucking shoot me! I'll fucking kill you"

"Where's he fucking gone?" Jones shrieked. Mitchell at first didn't know what he was talking about, then he turned around to face the other prisoner, Jim. Jim was gone.

"Fuck it!"

**Author's Note:  
**

My first update in a long time. I've been meaning to get this written and posted up, but I just never got around to it. It might take me a while to get the fourth part up. Hopefully not too long, though. It doesn't take me long to write these… it just takes me a while to sit down and write them.

Thanks to my reviewers so far. Now I'm almost a year older than the last time I posted a chapter and a year more experienced (it may not be a very good story, but bear with me I'm only 15). I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

"I remember when I was told the story of crushed velvet, candle wax, and dried up flowers."-AFI "Days of the Phoenix"


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